


Born a Loser, Always a Loser

by akat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Losers (2010)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Real Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:40:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akat/pseuds/akat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clay told Aisha that he didn’t have family, he meant it. How the hell was he supposed to know he had a son with Jessica Harris?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: BtVS through Season 6, the entire movie for The Losers  
> Disclaimer: Neither BtVS nor The Losers belong to me.  
> Timeline: Picks up right at the end of the movie, The Losers, when they’re watching Jensen’s niece’s soccer game, and AU after Buffy Season 6.  
> A/N: I had to get this out of my head, especially after watching The Losers again and wondering how they could just be sitting there back in the US with Max still out there.

+++

This was chaos, pure and simple – and it was hilarious.

Clay shook with laughter as he, Pooch, and Cougar tried to hold Jensen back from going after the ref. Jensen was a crafty son of a bitch, though, and he managed to get away twice before they finally dragged his sorry ass off the soccer field. 

It seemed like that was the end of it, but then the ref made one last comment to them – _before_ they were out of earshot. Clay himself didn’t hear what the woman said because Jensen was still hollering in his ear, but Aisha heard, and the shit hit the fan once again.

She and Pooch’s wife _had_ just been watching their little tussle, going back and forth between amusement and exasperation, but now suddenly _she_ was up in the ref’s face, which of course made Jensen heartily clap and cheer her on. 

Chuckling, Clay looked at Cougar and Pooch to make sure they had Jensen under control. They grinned back, so he let go and began to make his way toward Aisha.

Before he got half a dozen steps, however, his phone rang.

He knew who it was before he even looked at his phone, because the only other people who had this number were either standing right here with him, or they were dead.

It was Max, that fucking bastard, Max. 

He immediately detoured from his original destination to take half a dozen steps toward the parking lot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the rest of his team hadn’t noticed what he was doing yet, still caught up in Jensen’s madness, and a part of him was glad. Let them have a few more seconds of fun, because it sure as hell wasn’t going to last.

Setting his mouth in a grim line, he pulled out his phone and answered. 

“What do you want?” he bit out.

“Oh, you know, a home cooked meal, a good martini, world domination,” Max replied glibly. “But right now? I’ll settle for tying up loose ends, and you, Colonel, are a loose end. You and your band of misfits.”

“So come and get me,” Clay immediately countered, even as he scanned the area for any threats. But there was nothing.

Max gave a short laugh. “My time is valuable,” he admonished. “That’s why you’re going to come to me. To get your son.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree. I don’t have a son,” Clay snorted. 

“Huh, so you don’t know. And here I thought you were just another one of those dead beat dads plaguing our country,” Max replied, a thoughtful tone to his voice. “He’s yours, though. The blood test proves that. And he looks like you, too, poor kid. And wait…”

Then Clay heard Max give an order to whoever was with him, which was almost immediately followed by the sound of something hard hitting flesh. That brought a grunt of pain, then a weak laugh. 

It was tough to tell, but it sounded like a kid, probably in his late teens or early twenties.

Clay silently swore, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his phone in his fist. 

Max came back on the line. “Yup, he’s tough like you, too,” he revealed. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Maybe I should break him and build him back up again, see if he can replace Wade. That would make things more interesting, don’t you think? Anyway, you’ve got 48 hours. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you give Jessica Harris a call? I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

Then the line went dead.

Clay fought the urge to hurl his phone to ground.

Jessica Harris. He hadn’t heard that name in years. He knew who it was, though. He never forgot a face – or her husband’s, especially when it was chasing him down the street. 

Did she have a kid? And was it really his? 

Clay shook his head. It didn’t matter. If Max was telling the truth, some kid – possibly his _son_ – was being tortured and God knew what else. Even if it wasn’t true, Max wasn’t going to stop there. 

Almost against his will, Clay looked over at the Petunias, who were back getting their asses kicked by the much larger, much tougher Marigolds, who looked more like rugby players than 11 year old girls. 

What the hell were they thinking, coming back like this? They should’ve seen this coming. No one was safe, not with Max still out there. And maybe not even after that.

He heard his team walk up behind him. He slowly turned around and saw that they were all looking at him expectantly. 

“Woman trouble again?” Pooch joked, though he had a worried look in his eyes.

Aisha glared at him. “It better not be,” she warned. 

Clay ignored them both and straightened up. “Looks like we got ourselves another mission. Max just got personal,” he announced, making sure to look them all right in the eye as he spoke. “I won’t lie. We’ve got shit for intel, no real resources, and the odds sure as hell aren’t in our favor.”

A silence fell over his team as they absorbed what he had just told them. He saw the way Jensen’s gaze flickered over to his niece, the way Pooch’s hand tightened around his wife’s hand. And he felt like shit. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, though, so he just waited.

It was Cougar who broke the silence.

“Sounds like our kind of mission,” the sniper shrugged.

That was all it took for the others to fall in line. Clay saw it in their eyes. 

He gave a clipped nod. “Come on, losers,” he ordered. “Let’s move out. We’ve got work to do.”

Starting with figuring out who the hell Jessica Harris’ kid was.

+++


	2. Double-Barrel Buckshot

+++

Xander obviously wasn’t going to hold evil to any moral standard, but there was such a thing as _tradition_ , dammit, and the lull after an attempted apocalypse was about as time honored as it got.

Seriously, it didn’t matter who – or what – was behind the most recent threat of world endage. For five years running now, there was an unspoken cease fire over the summer, one that almost everyone and every _thing_ observed, from the soul-devouring Big Bad right on down to the blink-and-it’s-slayed flunky. It gave them all some much needed rest, and Xander looked forward to it every year.

So yeah, it annoyed the heck out of him that he got ambushed at LAX airport in broad daylight one measly day after the most recent apocalypse-that-almost-was.

It happened in the parking garage. He had just seen Willow and Giles off on their trip to Merry Old England for some witchy rehab, and, having essentially glued himself to Willow’s side for the past day and a half in constant vigil, he was ready to crash.

When he spotted his car, he almost broke out into the Snoopy dance right then and there as visions of his bed filled his mind – which was probably why he dropped his keys as he yanked them out of his pocket.

They hit the ground with a loud clang. The sound echoed through the silent garage, jolting Xander back to reality. Chagrined, he came to an abrupt halt to look for them.

That’s when he heard it – the faint scuffle of feet, coming from somewhere behind him. 

It only lasted a split second before it stopped. In fact, if he hadn’t had so much practice listening for the undead – with a moderate but respectable success rate, he might add – he would’ve missed it completely, which meant that whoever was out there was good with the stealth. And because normal people didn’t sneak around parking lots like ninjas, he pretty much knew he was in trouble right then and there.

Xander pretended like nothing was wrong to try to buy himself some time, but apparently his attacker didn’t want to take any chances; suddenly he could hear footsteps again, and this time they weren’t bothering to mask the sound.

With no time to think, Xander sprang into action.

He didn’t waste time turning to face his attackers. Nope, he knew his best option was to go for his keys. Not only would they make for some impromptu weapons, but they also would unlock the trunk, where he had some _real_ weapons stored.

Moving as quickly as he could, he dove for his key ring, dodging a little to the side at the same time, hoping that this would make himself a harder target to hit.

It almost worked, too. As it was, the blow most likely aimed for the back of his head caught him on the side close to his ear instead. And okay, it still sent him to the ground, dazed, but he got some small satisfaction that he wasn’t caught _completely_ unaware.

And right now? He was all about focusing on the positive, because he was pretty sure the bright side was going to be far and few between from this point on.

Then everything went black.

+++

_“Call Max. He’s coming around.”_

The words echoed around in Xander’s head as he slowly swam back into consciousness. It took a second to register that someone was talking about _him_. When it did, though, he forced himself to open his eyes, disorientation be damned.

The sooner he figured out what was going on, the better – preferably _before_ this ‘Max’ showed up.

No sooner had he opened his eyes, however, than he found himself assaulted by a burst of light – sunlight. 

Xander instinctively threw a hand up over his eyes. Or at least he tried to. 

That was when he realized that he was tied to a chair.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised, per se, but it was still a little bit of shock to actually see it. Besides, ropes really weren’t a good look for him, no matter what Anya said.

“It’s about time. I was beginning to think you hit him too hard.”

Xander whipped his head up toward the voice. Unfortunately, his vision was still a little wonky and the light hadn’t gotten any less bright. He refused to look away, though. He simply squinted, willing his eyes to adjust as he tried to see something, _anything_. 

Oh so slowly, things started to come into focus. 

There was a door about 30 feet away from him, and someone had just come through it – Max, presumably – and now he was heading straight for Xander. Because of the angle of the sun, his face was completely in shadows, obscuring any telling features, demonic or otherwise. His silhouette, however, almost seemed to glow. 

Of course, that might have been because of the white suit he was wearing.

“Did I die and go to a Miami Vice episode?” Xander blurted out, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

He was only partly surprised by the blow to the gut he received half a second later.

Wheezing in pain, Xander glanced up at the ominous shadow that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere – and immediately swallowed a gasp of surprise.

The guy screamed ‘military’. Non-demonic, Uncle Sam loving, _military_. Heck, Xander had the faint urge to salute the guy.

More confused than ever, Xander finally took a good look around.

Sure enough, aside from Max, whom Xander could now see also appeared to be very human, there were about a handful of military types in the room with him, all big and brawny and armed to the teeth.

Then there was the room itself, which was pretty much as nondescript as it could get, with nothing but gray concrete all around. There were no windows, so the only light came from a few light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Sure, it was painfully cliché, but it got the message across.

Xander blinked, completely stunned.

What could the military possibly want with him? They couldn’t be leftover pieces of the Initiative looking for a little revenge, could they? Or maybe the Initiative wasn’t as shutdown as they thought—

With a stifled yelp, he sat up straight, determinedly ignoring the sudden throbbing in his head as he gave himself a thorough look over. Only when he saw no obvious demon parts attached to him did he slump back in his chair, a mixture of pain and relief rushing through him.

Apparently, the mountain next to him didn’t like this; he was practically towering over Xander now, looking like he wanted nothing more than to bring on some more pain.

Because he could never pass up the opportunity to poke a bear with a stick, Xander grinned up at him. “Okay, got it. No insulting the wardrobe choices,” he noted. “I, of the occasional Hawaiian shirt, totally understand.”

“Funny.”

The Sonny Crockett wannabe was now about ten feet in front of him, an amused look on his face.

“But I suppose you come by it honestly,” he continued. “Your father’s quite the comedian, too, isn’t he?”

Xander frowned. How the heck did this guy know his father? Because they didn’t exactly look like they ran in the same circles.

“Uh, yeah, Dad’s a laugh a minute,” he said slowly. “Followed by some screaming and crying.”

This only seemed to amuse the guy even more.

Xander’s frown deepened. He obviously didn’t want to give away too much, but he had to figure out what this was all about. There was a reason why he was taken, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t to chat about his dad.

“You know, as much fun as this is, I know some people who won’t be too happy about this,” he offered cautiously.

The guy gave him a patronizing look. “Yes, that’s the point. How else do you think I’m going to get your father here?”

Xander snorted, again the words coming out before he could stop them. “You’re joking, right? Because if that’s the case, boy, are you waiting for a train that’s never gonna come. My father’s more ‘drunk and disorderly’ than ‘search and rescue’,” he said dryly.

Max didn’t like this. Not too surprisingly, the goon squad next to him moved toward him menacingly, and Xander braced himself for the pain. Thankfully, though, he was waved off.

“Well, this is less dramatic. I wonder if he even knows,” Max snipped as he held his hand out to no one in particular. “Phone.”

Xander watched as another flunky quickly strode forward and placed a phone in the outstretched hand.

As Mr. Big Pimpin’ waited for the person on the other side to answer, he raised a questioning eyebrow at Xander.

“By the way, I hope you weren’t counting on the Slayer. I’ve read her file, and while she’s impressive, she just an army of one, something easily taken care of,” he said dismissively.

“That’s what every other Big Bad has said,” Xander retorted. “And yet she’s still alive and kicking your asses.”

The guy actually smiled at this. “For now,” he replied before turning his attention to his phone.

Xander felt his heart drop at the guy’s implication, though he refused to show it. 

But seriously, this wasn’t good. In fact, he was going to go out on a limb and say this was very, very bad. Sure, it wasn’t demons, but this wasn’t much better. 

Buffy had a serious lack of fire power, and Duke Nukem and his buddies looked like they were ready to take over a small nation – and that was just what they had on them. And they were human, which created a boatload of complications, for _both_ Buffy and Willow, but especially Willow.

Honestly, Xander wasn’t sure if he wanted her there _at all_. It was just too soon, and this involved him and guns and humans – the perfect combination to send her right back into that walk on the dark side. He wasn’t sure he’s be able to stop her this time, either, because he was pretty sure the yellow crayon story was a one trick pony.

And then, of course, there was an even bigger problem; namely that they might not even _know_ he was missing, not for awhile, anyway. Buffy and Dawn were planning on doing the sister bonding thing for the next few days, and Giles and Willow were halfway across the Atlantic. No one would be looking for him, and by then, the trail might be cold. Or he might be dead.

Xander glanced around him and grimaced.

Yep, contingency plans were of the good. So what if the chances of him outmaneuvering trained professionals were slim to delusional? He had to try – especially when Don Johnson’s evil twin looked about one thunderbolt away from a major god complex.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so I know not a lot happened here, but I wanted to put in Xander’s POV as well as explain some things regarding Max. I hope this wasn’t boring! Also, thank you so much for the kudos and comments! I was blown away by the response to this. I have to say, though, in full disclosure, my next update will take a little time. I'm currently working on another fic, and I want to finish it before I pick this one up again. Though if I catch this movie on TNT or something like that, then all bets are off!


End file.
